


the way the guillotine wears gravity (i'm falling for you)

by teddylupin_snape



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Barty POV, Failed expectations, Kissing, M/M, Vampire Hunter!Barty, Vampire Hunters, Vampire!Regulus, VampireHunter!AU, Vampires, muggle!AU, sorta - Freeform, vampire!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 08:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16260494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddylupin_snape/pseuds/teddylupin_snape
Summary: "I know your kind. I’m content to live my life in peace and allow you to do the same. Humans are not so generous. So, are you going to kill me or arrest me, Barty?"Barty's a vampire hunter. Regulus Black is the last of his family, and Barty's newest target. / Bartyreg Vampire Hunter!AU





	the way the guillotine wears gravity (i'm falling for you)

              Barty drums a pattern against the dark stained wood of his father’s office desk. He knows the noise bothers him, but Barty can’t seem to control his restless fingers. His father looks up at him finally, peering through narrowed eyes. “You said you have a lead?” The man considers his son – if only by blood and expectations.

              He nods, setting his jaw and keeping a look of determination firm on his face. His father’s the head of the department, Barty’s had a place here since he was born. He didn’t have much choice in his career. Up until this case, he’s always thought of it as an easy path forward. But Regulus Black is testing his resolve, and the last thing Barty needs is for his father to find out.

              “Well.” His father’s gruff voice brings Barty back to the task at hand. “Unless you need reinforcements, I’ll let you get on with it. Take this,” he says, sliding an ornate compass across the desk to Barty. It’s bronze and tarnished, resembling a pocket watch. The casing is embellished with crosses and crescents. Barty turns the compass over in his hands, admiring the handiwork. “It was your great-grandfather’s. Been passed down through the ages. It’s rumored to have magical properties,” he adds scornfully. There’s only one thing his father hates more than magic, and that’s vampires. Luckily for him, it’s only the latter that exists. “Even so, it’s a useful keepsake.” Barty nods slightly, stowing the compass in his pocket as he stands to leave the office.

              He gives his father a parting nod, allowing his final words to wash over him as he turns the door handle. “I want a full report of your excursion when you return.”

.

              Barty’s good at his job. He’s consistently one of the top Hunters – when he’s given a new case, it doesn’t take him long at all to find his mark and make an arrest.

              Finding Regulus Black is no different. At least, not in this respect.

              But Barty finds himself staying a distance away. He watches Regulus from between the trees of the wide forest at the edge of town. It would be so easy to spring closer, to arrest him and return to the ministry for another case.

              He’s not quite sure why he doesn’t. All he knows is that Barty can’t help himself from watching Regulus. He doesn’t even do much, really. Barty’s used to catching vampires out hunting, killing, wreaking havoc on the small village. But it’s been hours, days, since he first came across Regulus – and still he hasn’t killed anything.

              Barty tells himself that Regulus Black is an enigma of a vampire, that that’s why Barty’s been hesitant to act. But the more he observes, the weaker Barty’s desire to interrupt.

              It’s months later before he finds the guts to make a move.

.

              “You’ve never taken this long on a case,” his father says, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

              Barty barely stops himself from squirming under the strong gaze. He’s not a child anymore – his father is hardly even his father anymore, he’s Barty’s boss. “He’s the last living member of the Black clan. He’s only made it this far because he knows how to hide and protect himself.”

              “Are you giving up, then? Should I transfer the case to someone else, someone who will be able to solve it in a timely manner?”

              Barty pales, swallowing. “I can handle it,” he spits out through gritted teeth. He’s not passing this off, not after he’s done all the work. “Just give me a bit more time.”

              His father’s just as stubborn as Barty is, but he agrees. “One week and no more.”

.

              The next time Barty enters Regulus’s forest, he doesn’t hide. He can’t waste any more time.

              “You found me,” Regulus murmurs, keeping a wary eye on Barty.

              Barty smirks, smiling softly at Regulus. There’s a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Oh, Regulus Black, I found you quite a while ago. First time we crossed paths was about six months ago – though, of course, you didn’t know it at the time. I’ve been following you ever since, keeping tabs on you.” He raises an eyebrow, waiting for a reaction.

              Regulus isn’t sure how to respond. More than anything, he’s confused. “What took you this long? If you’ve known where I’ve been all this time, why haven’t you killed me yet?”

              Barty’s haughty façade falters. He can’t answer that, not honestly. Not even to himself. Because the irrational part of him has kept Regulus alive for selfish reasons. He can’t say that, though, and he must say something. “I needed to learn how you worked. When you were here before, I didn’t know your intentions, your next moves…” He trails off, cursing himself for the weakness of his lie.

              With a cocked eyebrow and a sly grin, Regulus rebuts. “And you know that now? You know what I’m going to do next?”

              It goes against every fiber of his better judgment, but Barty makes eye contact with Regulus. His eyes seem to glow white and silver. It’s mesmerizing, captivating. They’re what gave away Regulus’s identity as a vampire when Barty first saw him. He’s been trained that these eyes signify danger, that seeing them is the only cue one should need to know to escape. But now, looking closer, Barty realizes that he can’t escape Regulus’s gaze even if he wanted to.

              He isn’t sure he wants to.

              After a short moment of standing frozen in place, transfixed by Regulus – his pale skin contrasted against the forest green of the world behind him; the delicate scars marring his otherwise perfect neck; the way Regulus’s eyes keep darting down to the coiled rope and sharpened stake stowed in Barty’s belt – Barty shakes himself. He has a job to do.

              He still changes the subject.

              “I haven’t seen you hunt. It’s been months, how are you surviving?”

              Regulus spares him a smile. It’s _almost_ genuine. “You know my family’s history about as well as I do, I’d assume.” Barty nods. His father’s told him stories of all the members of the Black clan that have passed through the justice system in his time with the department, of all the notable and horrible ancestors of the man that stands before him today. “We have blood vaults, storage from previous hunting vampires – they go back centuries. I don’t need to kill. I feed off that.”

              “But if you run out—”

              Regulus chuckles, but there’s no humor in the sound. “With the rate your people are killing mine, it’ll last our entire community decades at least. But it’s not a communal vault, it’s the Black vault. And I can assure you that I won’t deplete its contents in this century.”

              Barty’s silent for a moment. He’s never heard about these vaults before – he vaguely wonders if his father is aware of them, but then Regulus speaks again.

              “But I know your kind. I’m content to live my life in peace and allow you to do the same. Humans are not so generous. So, are you going to kill me or arrest me?” Barty’s throat clenches. Regulus’s tone is light, conversational, as though he’s asking what’s for dinner.

              Barty can’t. He can’t arrest Regulus, and he sure as hell can’t _kill_ him. His father’s told him stories of blood-thirsty Hunters since he was a kid. The stories always turned Barty’s blood to ice, sent goosebumps down the back of his neck, but that didn’t mean Barty needed to be the one to stop it. “I—”

              “If I could make a request.” Regulus meets his eyes again, and Barty feels the tension in his throat melt away, only to be replaced with a tightness in his chest, a fluttering in his stomach. He needs to stop. He can’t have feelings for a monster like Regulus, there’s no coming back from that. It would ruin him, ruin them both. He can’t risk that.

              Regulus continues, ignoring Barty’s distraction. “Kill me.” The words have a hollow delicacy to them. They hover in the air between them like a glass bubble. “Please don’t arrest me. I’d rather die.”

              Upon seeing Barty’s reaction, Regulus gives an empty laugh.

              “That’s… quite the sacrifice you’re proposing.”

              “Isn’t it your job to kill us?”

              Barty’s silent.

              “You’ve never killed a vampire,” Regulus breathes, realization dawning. “A Hunter who’s never killed, I don’t believe it.” Barty’s eyes fall to his feet, but Regulus doesn’t notice. He’s looking off, beyond either of them. His eyes rest on the house at the edge of the forest. It’s old, centuries abandoned. Ivy climbs its walls, snaking into the holes where bricks have been lost over the years. Regulus remembers running through these woods as a child, back before this house was built. He’s getting old.

              “No. I’ve never killed a vampire, and between you and me, I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

              “What are you afraid of? It’s not as though you consider us people.”

              “You’re not,” Barty says without thinking. His words have a confidence he doesn’t feel.

              Regulus raises an eyebrow at him. His face is stoic for a moment, contemplative, but then a faint smile breaks across his face. “You’re letting your personal opinions cloud your professional judgment. You should know better than that, Barty Crouch.” His voice is soft, but it’s _what_ he says that grates Barty’s nerves. He sounds just like Barty’s father. The similarity ends in Regulus’s sarcastic tone, just barely there but noticeable nonetheless.

              He should know by now what he should and shouldn’t do.

              He should care.

              But he doesn’t.

              Barty leans in; he’s too close, he can feel Regulus’s breath on his face. He shouldn’t – he should stop right now, arrest Regulus, get it over with. But then Barty thinks about his father. Everything he’s done in live has been following in his father’s footsteps. All he wants now is to do something, _anything_ that his father would hate. So he kisses Regulus Black.

              Regulus freezes, his fangs instinctively pressing against Barty’s lips before he realizes what he’s doing and pulls back. His silvery-white eyes are wide, searching for some explanation in Barty’s own. “Crouch,” he breathes.

              “It’s Barty, please,” he corrects weakly. “I—I’m sorry.” And without another word, Barty turns on his heel and walks out of the clearing, his lips tingling and mind racing.

.

              It’s a few days before Barty returns to the forest. He would wait forever if he could, but he has a deadline to meet. He can’t go back empty-handed.

              The days he doesn’t visit Regulus feel empty in comparison. He’s been obsessing over the Black heir for the better part of a year. Letting that all fall apart now isn’t an option.

              He returns. Regulus is waiting for him. He’s standing in the center of the clearing, the light falling on his face, illuminating his features. Barty wants to cup Regulus’s face, his hand resting beneath the sharp angles of his jawline, wants to kiss him with a passion he’s scarcely felt in life.

              “You’re back. I was starting to think you’d given up on me.” Regulus leans back against a tree, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. “Did you finally agree to kill me?”

              “I’m not going to kill you, Regulus.” His voice is little more than a whisper, but it’s enough. “I wanted to make you an offer, actually.” Regulus merely cocks an eyebrow, so Barty continues. “Go away with me. We’ll leave this all behind, find somewhere we can both be safe together. Follow our hearts, live on hope, all that rubbish. Quit living the lives that others have set out for us, make our own path.” He pauses, watching for a response from Regulus, but none comes and Barty’s resolve falters a bit. “God, I’m—I’m being an idiot, aren’t I? Fuck, I’m sorry, I—”

              Regulus closes the gap between them at a speed that can’t be human – _it probably isn’t_ , Barty reminds himself. He presses his lips firmly against Barty’s, leaving no room for misinterpretation. He laces his fingers through Barty’s hair, pulling him in tighter before breaking apart as quickly as he’d started it.

              “I’ll follow your lead. Where to?”


End file.
